


All the Time in the World

by anglophileadventures



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gladers are Family, Hurt/Comfort, Jorge is a dad, M/M, Newt Lives, Newt and Thomas live happily ever after, Post-Canon, Safe Haven, Teresa is a science genius, she saves the world, they love and support each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anglophileadventures/pseuds/anglophileadventures
Summary: Newt survived his ordeal in the Last City, and now he's living with the others in the Safe Haven. They help each other heal, and make difficult decisions when it turns out the search for the cure wasn't quite over.





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astralpenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralpenguin/gifts).



> Secret Santa requests:  
> -characters/ships: Newt, Newtmas  
> -strong friendships between the Gladers  
> -Newt & Sonya siblings  
> -happy ending
> 
> I did my best to fulfill all of these, hope you enjoy! And have a nice holiday!
> 
> Big thank you to Dreams for beta-reading (I can put this here now that it's no longer anonymous and I don't have to worry about that giving me away haha). Love you!

Newt found Thomas hiding in the kitchen, wedged into the narrow space in between the end of the cupboard and the wall.

“Everything ok?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle. He knew where Thomas had been, and he knew the way it always affected him.

Thomas startled at the sound of Newt’s voice, then tried to pass it off as a laugh when his eyes focused and he realised it was Newt standing before him. “Yeah, everything’s good, it’s all good,” he said in a jovial manner that was almost convincing. “I’m just, y’know, it gets pretty loud out there with everyone talking and shouting all the time, and I knew no one would be in here this time of day, so I just thought I’d - I don’t know, I’m just…” He started to squirm his way forward out of his hiding spot, but Newt gestured for him to stay put.

Newt flopped himself down on the floor next to Thomas and heaved a deep sigh. “It’s ok. I know.”

Thomas looked woefully across at him. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Newt hesitated, but there was no point tiptoeing around it. “You’ve been to see Teresa today, haven’t you?”

Thomas swallowed and looked down. “I’ve found that it… it helps me recover better if I’m… in an enclosed space. It helps me feel safe.” He glanced back up at Newt, who nodded thoughtfully.

“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” he said. “Although I’m the opposite, myself. I can’t stand feeling closed in.”

Thomas reflected. “That’s probably because of the - ” he cut himself off, looking at Newt apprehensively, clearly afraid he’d gone too far.

Newt smiled to show him no offense had been taken. “Because of the Maze, yeah. That’s my guess as well.”

Thomas nodded, his mouth twisting wryly. They sat together in silence for several moments.

“Did she need a lot this time?” Newt asked softly. Thomas opened his mouth, and Newt hastily added, “You don’t have to answer.” He ducked his head. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s ok,” Thomas said. Newt looked up again, and Thomas offered him a weak smile. “C’mon Newt, after everything we’ve been through, you should know me better than that.” He reached out to touch Newt on the arm, giving it a light squeeze, and Newt felt a swell of emotion building inside him, until he thought he might burst from it. He just wanted Thomas to be happy. He wanted all his friends to be happy; they deserved that much, after everything, but Thomas was the only one who seemed hell-bent on punishing himself. Newt knew Thomas still hadn’t forgiven himself for what had happened - or for what had almost happened.

Thomas continued, “It wasn’t a _lot,_ I guess, not really, but it was more than last time, and the - the visions, or hallucinations, or whatever they are, this time, were…” Thomas trailed off, unable to finish the thought, or to find words to adequately describe the horror of what he’d seen. His gaze wandered, and Newt wondered what awful things he was reliving.

Newt took a deep breath. “I’m only going to say this once,” he began, but Thomas interrupted him.

“How about you only say it never?” he suggested, but he was smiling and his tone wasn’t hostile. Thomas looked down, and the happy expression dropped off his face, leaving him looking small and vulnerable. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Am I really that predictable?” Newt asked, smiling in spite of himself.

“Not predictable, just… compassionate. Empathetic.” Thomas’ eyes searched his own. Newt thought he looked a little sad. “Maybe too much for your own good.”

Newt held his gaze steadily. “You don’t owe anyone anything,” he told Thomas firmly. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility to save everyone.”

“Newt,” Thomas pleaded quietly, “you’re only alive right now because of this stuff in my blood. How can I live with myself if I keep something like that to myself, when there’s people out there dying every day?”

“It’s not your job to save everyone,” Newt insisted. “You didn’t create this mess, and you certainly don’t have to clean it up. Not when it comes at such great personal cost. Not when you’re sacrificing yourself by inches to do it.”

Thomas’ eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds, and when he opened them again a stray tear escaped and trailed down his cheek. He turned more fully towards Newt and took both his hands, clasping them tightly in his own. “Newt, ever since - ever since you got sick, it changed something for me. They weren’t just strangers anymore, they weren’t just some nebulous concept, it was real and it was happening right in front of me to my best friend and there was nothing I could do to stop it.” His voice was strained thin and taut, threatening to snap. “And then there was something I could do, not just to stop it temporarily but to make it go away completely, and I still almost lost you anyway, and nothing has ever been the same, because ever since then I can’t stop thinking about all of them, and about how every single infected person has someone who cares about them as much as I care about you, and when I think about how it felt to almost lose you, I can’t let that happen to them without at least trying to help.” Thomas’ eyes locked onto his, silently begging him to understand. “I have to at least try, don’t you see that?”

Another tear chased the first down Thomas’ cheek, and Newt reached up to brush the tears away with his thumb. Thomas caught Newt’s hand and held it pressed against the side of his face, closing his eyes and turning into it until he could almost have kissed Newt’s palm.

 _It’s not the same,_ Newt wanted to argue, but he held the words back because deep down he knew they weren’t true. He knew, as much as he hated seeing Thomas suffer like this, that it was Thomas’ choice alone to make, and that he was choosing of his own free will. And really, he was right, wasn’t he? What made Newt better, more worth saving, than any one of the other thousands upon thousands of those infected? He wasn’t selfish enough to think he somehow deserved the gift he’d been given, when countless others had died. Countless others more deserving, more worthy, than him.

Newt leaned his forehead down to rest on Thomas’ shoulder, and they sat in pensive silence until the shadows on the floor had lengthened, and Newt knew they would be missed.

“I should be getting back,” he said, moving to stand up.

Thomas hastily removed himself from his cramped hiding place and stood up as well. “Hey, Newt?” he called as Newt turned to leave.

Newt turned back to face Thomas. “Yeah?”

Thomas grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for sitting with me. It was nice. I think I needed the company, but I also needed to not have to… talk to anyone, or really interact with anyone, for a little while.”

Newt offered him a small smile. “Of course,” he replied. “Any time.” He returned the squeeze to Thomas’ hand, just before they both let go and let their hands drop back to their sides. It wasn’t until they had both left the kitchen and headed toward the main group gathered on the beach that it occurred to Newt that Thomas might have wanted him to hold on.

* * *

Newt moved carefully through the crowd, searching for familiar faces. There were a surprising number of people here he didn’t know; other immune children rescued from WCKD, he supposed. In times of uncertainty he liked to make sure his closest friends, his fellow Gladers, were nearby. It was probably a holdover from their time in the Scorch, and needing to be ready for fight or flight at any given moment, and wanting all his people safe. It would probably fade away the longer they lived in the Safe Haven, but for now, he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the habit. It had saved their lives multiple times, after all.

Newt spotted Minho’s familiar profile up ahead, and he pushed through the congregating bodies to get to him.

“Newt!” Someone called from off to his left. He turned to look, and it was Frypan. Newt waited for Frypan to get close, then seized his hand and shouldered his way through the crowd to Minho, pulling Frypan behind him.

“Minho,” he said, and Minho turned to face him, relief spreading across his face. “Any idea what this is about?”

Minho shook his head. “I was hoping you would know.”

Frypan was standing on his toes, peering over the crowd. When he found who he was looking for, he started waving to catch their attention. “Hey, Gally, over here!” he called.

A tall, imposing figure began making his way towards them. “Hey, Gally,” Minho said when he got close enough. “Do you know what the big announcement is?”

“Not a clue,” Gally answered, turning to look toward the impromptu stage that had been set up. “It must be a big deal though, if they’re gathering everyone here like this. I think it must be something that affects everyone, so they want to tell us all at once.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Minho agreed, nodding.

Newt spotted Brenda and Jorge standing on the fringes of the crowd, whispering between themselves. He caught Brenda’s eye and gestured for her and Jorge to join them. They were family too, by now. Brenda shook her head grimly and gestured for them to come to her instead.

Newt sighed, rolled his eyes, and grabbed Minho’s hand. “Make a chain,” he told them. Minho used his free hand to grab Gally’s, who grabbed Frypan’s, and then Newt led the way as they pushed through the crowd, pulling each other along so that no one was left behind.

Once they got to the edge of the crowd, people were more dispersed, and they could move without having to hold on to one another. Newt threw Brenda a pointed look, but Jorge intercepted.

“It’s safer to stay at the back,” he said. “Remember that crowd outside the city? I wanted to stay at the back then too, and see how that turned out.”

“We’re not outside the city,” Newt pointed out. “We’re safe here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re safe here,” Jorge responded, waving a cavalier hand. “But you’re still gathering all your people just in case you need to make a quick exit, aren’t you?”

Newt pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. Of course Jorge had seen right through him.

“Do either of you have any idea what this is about?” he asked, to change the subject.

“I’ve got a few guesses,” Brenda said darkly.

Newt raised his eyebrows and waited.

“Something this big? It’s gotta be something to do with That Bitch and her little science project,” Brenda said, lowering her voice so no one around them would overhear. Gally smirked at the nickname the two of them had started using to refer to Teresa. So far it hadn’t caught on with anyone else; Minho preferred ‘the Traitor’, and Frypan and Newt were polite enough to use her actual name.

While the others nodded in agreement or muttered some theories of their own, Newt scanned the crowd again. He had almost everyone he truly cared about gathered around him, except for—

“Thomas!” Newt called, spotting him at last, about twenty metres away, his posture stiff and his eyes darting around in what looked a lot like mild panic. At Newt’s hailing, they landed on him, and Newt watched as Thomas’ entire expression relaxed and his eyes filled instead with calm and content. Despite the uncertainty of the situation and the current of unease still pulsing inside him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach at Thomas’ reaction to seeing him. He called Thomas’ name again, just for good measure, and waved him over, unable to stop the smile growing on his face.

“If anyone knows what the hell is going on, it’s gotta be you,” Frypan said to Thomas when he joined them.

They all looked at him expectantly, but Thomas shook his head. “Nope. She didn’t tell me anything.”

“So it _is_ something about That Bitch,” Brenda said triumphantly.

The others all turned to Thomas again, waiting for more information. Newt felt a little sorry for him. His eyes widened slightly and he seemed to freeze for a second, like a startled prey animal. “All I know is she has some announcement to make, I don’t know anything about what it is,” Thomas said when he recovered.

“Well, did anything happen last time she took a sample?” Gally asked. Newt frowned; he didn’t know if Thomas would like being asked about that so bluntly. “Maybe she mentioned she was using it for something different this time, or looking for something specific?” Gally continued.

Thomas didn’t show any sign that the question affected him other than blinking and biting his lip. “No, she just tells me how long she’s going to put me under for and takes the samples, she never tells me what she’s doing with them,” he answered.

“You’ve never asked? Aren’t you at least curious?” Brenda prodded. “It’s your blood, you have a right to know what she’s doing with it.”

“I - I don’t really - ” Thomas stammered. His gaze flickered to Newt, as though asking for help.

“It doesn’t really matter, we’re about to find out anyway when she makes the announcement,” Newt cut in, perhaps speaking a little more forcefully than necessary in his haste, but it worked. Their attention off of Thomas, the others continued to speculate about what the mysterious announcement might be. Brenda continued to insist that it must be something to do with finding the cure.

Thomas edged closer to Newt. “Thanks,” he muttered, leaning in to Newt’s shoulder so only he could hear and simultaneously touching him briefly on the elbow with two fingers. “I know I probably should care what she’s doing with it, I should want to know about it, but - I just can’t, it’s too much right now to think about that, I can barely get through it as it is, I just want to think about it as little as possible.”

The corner of Newt’s mouth quirked up wryly. He reached out and caught Thomas’ fingers as they retreated, curling his own around them. Thomas offered a small smile in return, and they stayed like that, tethered together in the most fragile, minimal way, held only by hope and friction. His senses felt hyper-attuned to the sensation of Thomas’ skin, the tiny ridges clinging to each other, the pulse beneath his fingerprints.

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” he said, voice soft, but with a core of iron hidden inside it. “Not for this.”

Thomas exhaled. His eyes were wet as a gazed back at Newt uncertainly, and Newt could feel him trembling. He strengthened the clasp between them an infinitesimal amount, barely enough to be noticed, and brushed his thumb over Thomas’ knuckles, his touch feather-light.

At that moment, Teresa appeared and began making her way towards the stage. A hush spread over the crowd, and a path opened up before her almost magically as everyone drew back. Many of them stared at her, not out of hatred but out of curiosity; she kept to herself a lot of the time, working night and day in her makeshift laboratory studying the samples she collected from Thomas. Most knew her only by hearsay; the infamous WCKD scientist, traitor-turned-double agent. Newt himself hadn’t spoken to her since the day they arrived in the Safe Haven.

Discovering Thomas had the cure in his blood was only the beginning, she said. They were still a long way off from a viable, sustainable treatment. And that was what she spent all her time working towards.

Teresa reached the stage, and turned to face them all. “Hello,” she began, projecting her voice to reach even the back of the crowd where Newt and his friends stood. “My name is Teresa. I’ve never spoken to most of you, but I’m sure you know who I am.” She paused, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I used to work for WCKD.” A buzz ran through the crowd. “I know, I know,” she said, raising her voice even more. “Many of you were treated horribly in the care of WCKD, and I contributed to that, indirectly for most of you, but directly for some. That was wrong.”

She paused again, and Minho scowled down at the ground, refusing to even look at her.

“I am - ” she swallowed, blinking back tears. “I am very, truly sorry for the pain I caused you. But WCKD is gone now, and even though my conscience won’t let me stop trying to develop and produce a sustainable cure, for _everyone,_ I will no longer carry out any procedures on anyone without their clear, informed consent.”

At this, another wave of muttering broke out, growing louder and louder until it was a veritable din.Teresa waited patiently for the noise to die down before continuing.

“I’m not sure how many of you know this, but just before the fall of the Last City, it was discovered that one of the immunes produced a version of the Flare-fighting enzyme that didn’t just slow the virus down, but destroyed it completely.”

Everyone around Thomas, who knew she was referring to him, glanced at him almost involuntarily. Thomas looked at his feet. Newt squeezed his fingers once, gently, to reassure him. They were all by his side, and they weren’t going anywhere.

“Over the past few weeks, I’ve been studying samples of the enzyme from this individual, with their permission, and I think I’ve isolated the active domain of the enzyme and the specific sequence of amino acids that confers this special activity. And in our previous work at WCKD, we had discovered the gene responsible for encoding the enzyme and sequenced it. Which means I can now test immune individuals and determine, from DNA alone, without having to resort to the hallucinations to harvest the enzyme, who else has the potential to make the version of the enzyme that destroys the virus.” She stopped, waiting for her statement to sink in.

A few seconds of stunned silence later, all chaos broke loose. People were shouting, talking over one another. Some even started pushing, and the crowd surged this way and that in confusion, people being shoved into one another, stumbling and falling.

“What’d I tell you?” Jorge muttered, grabbing Brenda by the shoulders and pulling her a few steps back. “Better to not be caught in the middle.” The rest of them quickly followed suit, backing up just enough to not be caught in the fray.

On the stage, Teresa was speaking again, waving with her arms to try and quiet everyone down, but they couldn’t hear anything she was saying over the noise.

Jorge put index finger and thumb in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle that cut through the bedlam. “Oy! Cállense!” he shouted fiercely. “Everybody shut up and listen to her!”

Almost everyone stopped abruptly, and those few who didn’t were quickly hushed by rest. Once quiet and order were restored, and they made sure no one had been seriously injured, Teresa continued speaking.

“I’m more than willing to answer any and all questions you may have, but you’ll have to speak one at a time,” she said firmly.

“What does this mean? Are you going to test all of us?” Someone near the front wasted no time in shouting.

“Like I said, I won’t do anything to anyone without their fully informed consent, but yes, I would like to test as many immunes as possible,” Teresa answered. “Because I only need DNA, it’s a very simple, non-invasive procedure. All I would need is a cheek swab, or some hair follicles, or at most a regular blood sample.”

“Who’s the cure? Who’s the one who makes the special enzyme?”

Teresa shook her head. “That’s private medical information about that individual, I can’t disclose that.”

Minho stepped forward. “So what happens when you find other people who can make this special, magical enzyme? Are you going to torture them all until you get enough cure for the whole world?” His voice was loud, carrying all the way to the front of the crowd and to Teresa on the stage. Newt could hear the angry bite in it, and he knew Teresa hadn’t missed it either by the tight shift of her shoulders and the guarded expression in her eyes.

She put a hand up to shield her eyes as she peered over the crowd at them. Thomas stiffened, still gazing steadfastly at the ground, but somehow sensing her scrutiny. Newt took a sidestep closer to him so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder. Thomas seemed to fold in on himself, posture hunched and shoulders raised, chin tucked, arms held close to his sides. Like he was trying to take up as little space as possible, or disappear entirely.

Newt leaned in a fraction of an inch, just enough to feel the pressure of Thomas’ arm all down the length of his own. He stood with his left foot slightly forward, ready to move between Thomas and anyone who so much as glanced at him the wrong way. His stare burned a hole in Teresa, daring her to look at him or at Thomas.

Finally she dropped her hand from her face, and answered Minho’s challenge. “It is my goal to be able to make and distribute a cure eventually. But I’ll only harvest the enzyme from volunteers who know exactly what they’re getting into. I won’t force anyone into anything.”

Minho opened his mouth furiously to say more, but at that moment Gally stepped on his foot. “Not now,” he whispered. Minho wrenched his foot out from under Gally’s and turned sharply away from him, glaring at the ground, but he didn’t say anything else.

After a beat, Teresa asked, “Are there any more questions?”

“Yeah, when is this testing going to start? And how long do we have to decide?” Newt didn’t recognise the person speaking.

“I’d like to start immediately, if possible,” Teresa said. “But you can take as long as you need to decide. There’s no cutoff date.”

There were a few more questions, but Newt had stopped paying attention. He was watching Minho, who was standing rigidly, holding himself away from their group, and looked like he might explode if anyone touched him.

With the hand that wasn’t currently occupied with Thomas’, Newt reached out and tapped Gally on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he muttered when Gally turned to look at him. “We’ve heard the gist, we don’t need to hang around.”

Gally nodded in agreement and signaled to Frypan, while Newt caught Minho’s attention, being careful not to touch him. Minho had never been the biggest fan of casual physical contact, but ever since he had escaped from WCKD, he sometimes went into these moods and needed even more space than usual.

“You boys go on,” Jorge said. “I want to stay and see if she actually tells us any more of her plan.”

“Let us know if you hear anything interesting,” Brenda told him, turning to follow Newt and Gally.

“Of course,” Jorge replied, smiling.

They went down to the beach, which was deserted as nearly everyone else was back at the clearing they had just come from, hearing the rest of Teresa’s announcement. They walked along the shoreline a ways, until they were some arbitrarily far enough distance away from everyone, and then Gally, who had been leading the way, led them over to a fallen tree trunk, possibly a piece of driftwood that had been marooned there by the receding tide, and sat down.

Newt hadn’t been sure if he should keep holding onto Thomas’ fingers, but to his mild surprise, Thomas had shifted their grip as they walked so that they were properly holding hands, fingers laced together, palms touching. And Thomas continued to hold on tight, even when they sat on the dead driftwood log.

“So, what do you think?” Gally asked. “You think she’s telling the truth?”

“About figuring out what makes Thomas’ enzyme special, or about not torturing people?” Brenda said. Minho scoffed loudly. “Well, not torturing people without their consent,” Brenda amended.

“I think she’s telling the truth,” Frypan put in. “Why would she lie? She needs us to cooperate with her, or she can’t make her cure.”

“Sure, she’s telling the truth,” Minho spat out savagely. “But I don’t believe for one second that she’s made this change out of the goodness of her heart, or any kind of sincere remorse. The only reason she’s doing this with people’s cooperation now is because she doesn’t have the Rat Man and all his goons backing her up and zapping us unconscious.”

“That’s not true,” Thomas mumbled. His comment had barely been audible, and maybe he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud, because he reacted in surprise when Minho answered.

“Really?” Minho challenged. “A few weeks ago she was torturing me, and you expect me to believe she’s had some miraculous moral epiphany since then?”

Thomas’ eyes darted up, then back down to the sand in front of him. “Look, I’m not defending what she did,” he said, still addressing the sand, “but she’s not like Janson. She helped me escape from him, because he just wanted to use the cure for himself and the people he thought were important. She wants to save everyone.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Yeah, unless you’re already immune, then she doesn’t mind sacrificing you for the greater good,” he muttered, almost to himself. Everyone let that comment slide, unremarked on.

“So, are any of you going to volunteer?” Brenda asked, hesitant. “At least, for the testing part?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll bother,” Newt joked. That earned him a few chuckles.

“I might,” Gally allowed. “I’ll have to think about it. Even if I am a match, I don’t know if I’m willing to go through the hallucinations.”

“But if you get tested and find out you’re not a match, you won’t have to worry about it,” Brenda pointed out.

“I don’t need to get tested, I already know mine doesn’t work,” Minho said. “I almost wish I _was_ a match, just so I could have the satisfaction of refusing her.”

“Would you really do that?” Frypan asked in surprise. “Let people die, just to spite her?”

“After what she did to me, you bet your ass I would!”

“She saved Newt,” Frypan argued. Newt frowned at his lap. This time it was Thomas’ turn to squeeze Newt’s hand reassuringly.

“And I haven’t kept my promise to kill her, have I?” Minho said through gritted teeth. “But I’m not skipping back and volunteering to let her torture me again. I’m not fucking crazy.”

“So wanting to save other people from a slow and horrible death makes me crazy?” Frypan asked. Newt could tell he was getting uncharacteristically upset; his voice was rising, eyebrows knit closer and closer together. It was unsettling because Frypan so rarely let anything rattle him.

Minho stood up. “Fine, I guess I’m just a selfish asshole,” he said loudly, then strode off.

The rest of them sat stunned for a few seconds. Then Gally spoke up. “I’ll go after him,” he said, starting to stand, but Newt got up first.

“No, I’ll go,” he said.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Thomas asked quietly.

“No, I got this one,” Newt said, flashing him a small, tight-lipped smile. He gave Thomas’ hand one last squeeze before dropping it. Before he turned to go after Minho, he saw Thomas fold both his hands in his lap as he hunched forward, gaze returning to the ground.

Newt sighed to himself. _One problem at a time,_ he thought.

He found Minho only a few hundred yards down the shoreline, hurling rocks into the sea as hard as he could.

“I think you’re supposed to skip them,” Newt remarked. Minho turned and looked at him, but didn’t say anything. He turned back to the waves gently rolling in and threw another rock, grunting with the effort. It landed with a heavy, wet _plop._

Newt bent down and picked up a flat, smooth stone, then straightened up and sent it out across the water with a flick of his wrist. To his disappointment, it sank on first contact with the water.

“You can’t skip rocks on the ocean,” Minho told him stiffly, without looking at him. He chucked another large rock, swinging his arm over his head and managing to send it an impressive distance. “It needs surface tension to work, and the waves break the surface tension.”

“Oh,” Newt said. He sat down in the sand, legs stretched out in front of him. Minho stood with his back to Newt for a moment, looking out at the horizon. Then he turned with a sigh, walked up to Newt and collapsed down next to him.

“You’re not a selfish asshole for not wanting to be tortured,” Newt said softly. Minho looked down at his lap, blinking rapidly. “No one thinks that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Minho asked, his voice strained.

“I’m sure,” Newt said firmly.

“You know - ” Minho started, sliding an uncertain look at Newt. He started again, stammering and stumbling over his words. “You know, if it was a question of saving _you,_ \- I mean, I wouldn’t hesitate - it’s just, you don’t know what it was like, I was in there with them all by myself, I thought they were going to kill me, and the visions - it’s like they picked out all my worst fears and threw them at me one after the other, over and over and over, and I can’t, I _can’t,_ do that again, not for strangers that I don’t even care about, I’ll just - ” his voice was getting higher and faster, like he was talking himself into a panic.

“I know,” Newt rushed to assure him. “I know,” he said again, looking Minho in the eyes. “And you don’t have to. It’s completely your choice, and no one will think any worse of you.”

Minho let out a humourless laugh. “Well, it doesn’t really matter anyway, because they already tried mine and it’s no good, so she’s not going to waste her time with me anymore.”

“Even if you were the only cure in the world, it would still be your choice,” Newt said. “And I would support you one hundred percent, even if it meant I died.”

Minho looked stricken. “Newt, I would never - ”

Newt smiled grimly. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m just saying, even if you did, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

One corner of Minho’s mouth quirked up. “Anyone ever told you you’re too nice for your own good?”

“Someone might’ve done, yeah,” Newt laughed.

They sat staring out across the ocean, until they heard the soft footsteps of someone approaching.

It was Frypan. “I’m sorry, Minho,” he said, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean - ”

“No, I’m sorry,” Minho cut him off. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’ve been snapping at people and lashing out over the tiniest things, it’s like it takes almost nothing to set me off these days, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, you didn’t do anything.”

Frypan flopped down on the sand on Minho’s other side. “You’ve been through a lot of terrible shit,” he said gently. “It’s probably going to take a while before you feel like your normal self again.”

“And in the meantime, we’re here for you,” Gally said, seeming to materialise out of thin air behind them, Brenda and Thomas with him. Thomas quietly came and sat on Newt’s other side, offering a gentle smile and silent encouragement. He put his hand down next to Newt’s just close enough that their little fingers touched on the outside edges, and Newt felt a flood of relief as his heart grew that much lighter.

“Thanks, guys,” Minho said softly, looking down again in embarrassment.

“We’re family,” Newt told him, leaning in and knocking Minho’s shoulder with his own. “It’s what we do.”

* * *

“Can I talk to you about something?” Sonya asked.

“Sure,” Newt said, surprised. “What is it?”

“Well…” she started, hesitating. “You seem like someone who’s good to talk to about serious things,” she said. “All your - what do you call each other again, Gladers? All your Gladers seem to come to you when they have something difficult they need to work through.”

“Okay,” Newt said slowly, starting to feel amused. He hadn’t realised anyone saw him that way.

“And, well, I can’t really talk to Harriet about it,” she continued, “because I just know she’ll worry too much, she always does, and then I thought - I mean, you _are_ my brother, even if we barely remember anything from that time of our lives, and so I thought maybe I could talk to you about it, because that’s the kind of thing you do with siblings, isn’t it?”

“You’re the one who remembers us being siblings,” Newt corrected her, smiling. “All I’ve got to go on is your word. But yes, absolutely, of course you can talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Sonya took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I did the test thing. Teresa’s DNA test. I wasn’t really expecting much, because I figured if I had been a match, WCKD would have figured it out while they had me for six whole months, but I guess they had no idea what they were looking for, because… I am a match. I have the same enzyme as Thomas.”

Newt was stunned for a moment. “I hadn’t heard, no,” he said. “But that’s so strange, you’re not even the first person I’ve heard to be a match, did you know Frypan is one too? He found out a few days ago.”

“Yeah, seems like there’s a lot more of us than they realised,” Sonya commented. “Kinda makes you wonder what they hell they were doing the whole time, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it’s a simpler process now that Teresa’s narrowed down exactly what to look for,” Newt mused. “So have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Sonya confessed. “I don’t know what I should do. Did you hear that Teresa thinks she’s figured out a way to harvest the enzyme without the hallucinations?”

“Yeah, Frypan mentioned it when he told us his test results,” Newt answered. “I haven’t heard if it’s been tried on anyone yet.”

“As far as I know it hasn’t, but as much as it pains me to admit it, I think I trust Teresa,” Sonya said. “She figured out the cure when all of WCKD’s people and resources failed. But the fact that I could donate my enzyme without having to be tortured should make it less complicated to decide, right? It seems like it should be the right thing to do, to help people, and especially if it doesn’t hurt me, then I should just do it, shouldn’t I? But for some reason I’m still feeling… hesitant.”

“It’s still your choice,” Newt told her. “Even if it seems like an obvious choice, or you think people will judge you for your decision, it’s still your decision to make.”

Sonya chewed her lip. “I mean, I don’t want people to die if they don’t have to, and I have the power to help them.” She paused. “It’s just, after everything WCKD’s already done to me, I kind of feel… used up. Part of me wants to let someone else save the world, and just get back to living my life.”

“Yeah, I understand the feeling,” Newt said, feeling a hint of a smile on his face.

“So, even though you’re not immune, you still think I have a right to refuse?”

Newt thought carefully. “The way I see it,” he said slowly, “you didn’t ask to be immune, any more than I asked to not be immune. It’s all just chance. So just because you got lucky and I didn’t, it doesn’t mean you or anyone else who happens to be immune owes the rest of us anything. It’s great if you do want to help, but you’re not obligated. And of course I’m extremely grateful to be alive,” he added. “I don’t mean to sound flippant. But if I had died, it wouldn’t have been anyone’s fault, that’s just how it works sometimes.”

Sonya was silent for a moment, thinking. “I see now why people like coming to you for advice.”

Newt laughed. “I’m not sure that’s true, but thanks anyway,” he said. “So does that mean you’ve made up your mind?”

“No, I’m still thinking it over, but at least now I don’t feel guilty for the part of me that doesn’t want to do it.”

“Glad I could help,” Newt said. “Can I make a suggestion though?”

“What?”

“You should talk to Harriet about this, too. She’d want to know.”

Sonya smiled. “I know, and I will. I think I just wanted to figure out how I felt about it first.”

“Good,” Newt said, smiling back.

“You’re a good brother, Newt,” Sonya said. “I wish we could have grown up together like an actual family.”

“Hey, it’s never too late to start, right?”

"No, I guess it isn't." Sonya's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and there was a beat where they said nothing and simply smiled at one another. 

When Sonya cleared her throat purposefully, though, the determined look on her face told Newt that he was in for it. 

He supposed he'd have to get used to that, now that he had a sister.

"So anyway... what’s the deal with you and Thomas?" Sonya asked slyly.

“Are you trying to change the subject?” Newt asked, amused.

“Maybe.” Her voice was light and breezy, but her eyes were shrewd and calculating. “Maybe I’m just trying to get to know my older brother better. Siblings talk about this kind of thing.”

“Do they now?”

“They do,” she confirmed.

“Good to know,” Newt said with only a hint of sarcasm.

“So, about you and Thomas,” Sonya prompted again.

“What about me and Thomas?” Newt said carefully.

Sonya eyed him meaningfully. “Don’t give me any of that crap. Are you two together? Sometimes it seems like you are, but sometimes it seems like you’re really close friends.”

“Why do you care if Thomas and I are together?”

“I’m your sister, don’t think I can’t tell when you’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re really leaning into this whole ‘sister’ thing, aren’t you?”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“Isn’t that what brothers are for?”

Sonya rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter anyway, I can tell that you’re totally in love with him.”

“What makes you say that?” Newt barely stopped himself from fidgeting.

Sonya gave him a look. “Come on, Newt. You’re next to him every chance you get, and when you’re not, your eyes automatically seek him out, and you just stare after him with this _look_ on your face.”

“And what look is that supposed to be?” Newt asked indignantly.

Sonya’s smile became impish. “It’s the same look I have when I look at Harriet.”

Newt sighed in defeat. “Okay, you’re right. It’s true. I - I really am.”

“I knew it,” Sonya crowed. “Even for friends, you two hold hands an awful lot. So, are you together?”

“Not exactly,” Newt admitted. “It’s - complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it? I know he likes you back.”

“I know,” Newt said. “I mean, we’ve never talked about it, not in as many words, but we both know, and we both know the other knows. It’s just - we’ve had a lot going on, and we need time.”

“It’s been _weeks_ since the fall of the Last City, how much time do you need?”

“Apparently more time than that,” Newt answered, smiling. “There’s no rush. We have all the time we need, now. Before, we never had enough time, but now we have so much it’s overflowing, it’s like… we have all the time in the world. We’re rich in time.”

Sonya looked at him skeptically. “If you’re sure,” she said, but she sounded doubtful.

“It’s fine, truly,” Newt told her. “Neither of us is pining over the other, we both know we’re going to get there eventually, we’re just… allowing each other to take the time we need, to heal and to really be ready to start something. And anyway, I happen to quite like where we are right now. We’re so comfortable with each other, and we’re friends, but also something different than friends. It’s nice.”

“If you think that’s nice, wait until you get to the later stages. It only gets better, trust me.”

“Okay, weirdo.”

“Shut up! I’m more experienced than you in this area, I know what I’m talking about,” Sonya insisted.

“That’s funny, I don’t remember asking for advice,” Newt said primly.

“If you don’t want to benefit from my knowledge, that’s your loss,” Sonya shot back.

“I think I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“Dumbass.”

“Name-calling isn’t a substitute for a clever comeback.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re the one who wanted a brother.”

Sonya smiled. “That was before I knew how annoying they were.”

* * *

_He’s fighting with Thomas, but it isn’t really him. He’s a passenger inside his own body, watching in horror as whatever thing is controlling him pulls out a knife and swings it viciously. The thing inside him is aiming to kill, and it isn’t holding back._

_Again and again, Thomas jumps out of the knife’s path just in time, and each time, the thing controlling his body pushes closer and closer, determined to make deadly contact._

_Then, time seems to slow almost to a standstill, as the knife moves in a perfect arc. Thomas doesn’t jump back in time, and the knife finds its mark. All the air seems to go out of Thomas in a soft whoosh, and then he falls to the ground. And Newt can only watch as the thing using his body stabs Thomas over and over, then bends over his still form and rips off a chunk of flesh, raises it to his lips, and bites. Blood runs down his chin as the last dregs of life drain from Thomas’ body._

Newt woke with a start, covered in sweat. He looked around wildly for Thomas, but when his eyes landed on Thomas’ hammock, it was empty.

This wasn’t the first time Newt had had this dream; he had it, or one like it, at least once a week. When he woke up, it could be difficult to get his bearings. It could be difficult to remember what was real and what wasn’t.

When his racing heart had slowed, he rolled out of his own hammock and stumbled barefoot down towards the beach. The sand crunched softly and shifted beneath his feet; the pale light of early morning was just beginning to peek over the hills opposite. The tide was coming in, and the waves rolled and crashed against the shore, the noise oddly calming.

Just as he’d suspected, he saw Thomas sitting in the sand, right where the water would lap at his feet when it reached its highest point on the shore. Newt walked over and dropped down next to him without a word.

Thomas looked across at him. “Nightmare?” he asked, his voice casual. Nightmares were much too common an occurrence to be remarkable by now.

Newt nodded slowly, his eyes on the sand, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.

“Me too,” Thomas told him. “It was a pretty bad one, this time. I woke up hours ago but I’ve been too scared to go back to sleep.”

Newt hesitated. “I…” His voice came out dry and cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I dreamt that I killed you.” He swallowed. “In the city, when I was cranked out.”

“Please, you think you could take me?” Thomas smiled grimly. “You know I was winning that fight, even before Brenda got there with the serum.”

Newt was so surprised that before he could process it, he had let out a bark of laughter. But all of a sudden the weight of the dream and the reality of what had nearly happened crashed down on him, and just as quickly he was sobbing helplessly, unable to stop himself, the fear and grief a physical presence inside his chest that pressed down on his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Then, like a switch had been flicked inside him, he was laughing again. He couldn’t even remember what had been funny in the first place, but he couldn’t stop laughing. He felt weak, and he couldn’t even support himself; he fell over, still giggling uncontrollably, his body shaking. As much as he tried, he couldn’t stop laughing, and it scared him.

Thomas shot him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

It was as if the question had flipped the switch back the other way, and Newt was sobbing again, worse than before. He couldn’t stop the sobs and the crushing, overwhelming feeling of despair any more than he could stop laughing a few seconds ago.

“Newt, what’s wrong?” Thomas asked, the worry in his face growing more pronounced.

Newt couldn’t answer. He couldn’t do anything except lie there, desperately trying to catch his breath while sobbing convulsively.

And then Thomas’ arms were around him, and Thomas was pulling him up and holding him still, Newt’s back to Thomas’ chest. Newt gasped for breath as Thomas whispered soothing things in his ear. The close contact grounded Newt, and gradually he regained control of his body and slowed his breathing.

Thomas rested his chin on Newt’s shoulder. “Better?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Newt answered. He felt embarrassed about losing control so easily. “Sorry. I don’t know what happened, I just… couldn’t stop.”

“Don’t apologise,” Thomas said immediately. “You didn’t do anything.”

Newt stayed silent, but he still felt oddly guilty. He wasn’t sure why.

“Do you want me to let go now?” Thomas asked after a few seconds.

“Can you - can you stay?” Newt stuttered, feeling awkward but not ready for Thomas to let go of him yet.

“Of course. As long as you want me to.”

Newt exhaled heavily. “What if I want you to stay forever?”

He could practically feel Thomas smiling, his cheek shifting right next to Newt’s. “Then I’ll stay forever.”

They sat together, Thomas’ arms still around Newt, and Newt felt like he could breathe easy for the first time that morning. Eventually the water moved up to where they were, and they had to scoot back, but Thomas didn’t let go of Newt the whole time.

They would be okay. All of them would be. They would heal, and the world would heal. They could finally rest and just _live,_ without having to run from place to place, without being in constant danger. They had all the time in the world, time to sit quietly by the shore together and watch the tide come in. Time to breathe, to help each other recover. Time to build a new life with their friends, to shape the future they had thought was lost to them.

They had all the time in the world, and life was waiting for them.


End file.
